


Linen

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-12
Updated: 2005-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:51:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin go shopping. Ficlet.





	Linen

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: This was supposed to be a chaptered story, but fortunately it works as a teeny one-shot ficlet. Enjoy!  


* * *

“It’s silk. From Japan.”

“I’m aware.”

“Your dry-cleaning bill isn’t high enough already?”

“How the hell would you know what the dry-cleaning bill is? I’m the one who pays it.”

“You get so many bodily fluids on your sheets, they’re like a forensic pathologist’s wet dream.” 

“I fucked a forensic pathologist once.”

“Of course you did.”

Brian’s eyes cloud over with a shadow of remembered bliss as he slides the sleek fabric between his palms. Justin inhales impatiently and nudges Brian’s shoulder, reminding him that they’ve been in the bedding store for more than an hour, and Justin has long ago passed his limit. If monotony was alcohol, he’d be too sloshed to move. 

Glancing at his watch, Justin sighs loudly, earning him a glare from Brian’s direction. He shuts his eyes to summon patience. Then there are two arms pulling him forward, and he starts to lean into Brian’s embrace, when he is rudely jerked to a stop. His eyes snap open, sharp and blue, to see Brian considering him.

“What the fuck, Brian?”

“Don’t move,” Brian commands distractedly. He holds up a swatch of bedsheet next to Justin’s face, pursing his lips like a high-collared school marm, and suddenly Justin laughs, because the situation is patently absurd and what the fuck are they doing together in this store?

“I’m leaving,” he informs Brian before turning around. This time, he thinks he might have whiplash from the abrupt cessation of movement. Viselike around his arm, Brian has clamped a hand that is not to be disobeyed. 

“You’re not fucking going anywhere.” A huff escapes Justin’s lips the second before he resolves not to act like a child about the fact that Brian is being purposefully evasive just to aggravate him.

“What do you need me for?”

“To match the sheets.”

“Huh?”

“To match the sheets to your complexion. As an artist, you should understand the aesthetic value of complementary colors.”

“...I am _Not. Your. Accessory_.”

Justin’s complexion is flushed in irritation, and Brian grins at this revelation, because sonofabitch, that’s exactly what was missing! This is the color of Justin’s skin during sex, and now he’ll be able to find the right shade of blue. Pale bastard had been holding out on him. 

Red slips over white as Brian twines the sheets together, and Justin’s eyes follow the strong winding of his hands, the knots of his knuckles, and the soft callouses of his palms. He imagines them on his body, as he often does, and his lips part. Green eyes flick onto his face, and Brian glints. 

Everything slows, and for a minute Justin doesn’t understand why he feels cold and unsteady, like strings of beads are racing down his spinal column where his vertebrate should be, but then the features coalesce, and he gapes.

Stockwell. Buying a pillowcase. 

_Fuck._


End file.
